


Friday I'm In Love...And Dead!

by juneymoony



Series: Psych! {Shawn and Lassie} [1]
Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Case Fic, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Murder Mystery, Near Death Experiences, Pop Culture, Santa Barbara (Psych TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29689260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juneymoony/pseuds/juneymoony
Summary: Lassiter is still recovering from an injury on a case, Shawn is trying to solve a cold case that has to do with money, power, and surfing, and Gus and Jules are dealing with being best friends with the most melodramatic couple in the whole of Santa Barbara.
Relationships: Burton "Gus" Guster & Shawn Spencer, Burton "Gus" Guster/Juliet O'Hara, Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer
Series: Psych! {Shawn and Lassie} [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181792
Kudos: 7





	Friday I'm In Love...And Dead!

Carlton Lassiter heaved a sigh. The ache in his arm an ever present and a nasty reminder of his most recent brush with death at the hands of an obsessive, egomaniacal, pop culture fanatic that obsessively targeted people in recreation of famous crimes. It was a wonder that Lassiter hadn’t fallen head over heels for the woman, seeing as who he had actively chosen to spend the rest of his life with. Granted, Shawn Spencer had never killed anyone but he was slightly maniacal, the man did fit right in when Henry had him go undercover at West Haven and Lassiter had a fair share of worry that his boyfriend would be actually committed or want to stay at the luxurious facility. Though Carlton was back on duty and his arm was well beyond healed, the night of the shooting still plagued his mind. Probably because in the months since, Spencer’s ‘mojo’ had been slightly off. Instead of purposefully involving himself with every case that crossed Lassiter or O’Hara’s desks, he put lots more time in solving idle cases brought to the Psych office with only Guster as his sidekick. They were mostly tame, obviously obnoxious cases built off the back of Shawn’s fraudulent bid of being a psychic.

Lassiter had actually found himself missing the irritating bickering Spencer and he shared as Shawn wormed his way into every case. Even the older Spencer quipped a few times about Shawn being less nosy, and maybe it was Carlton finally convincing him. But Lassiter found himself worrying about Shawn who was careful even at home to not snoop, Lassie had actually found himself purposefully leaving out the most puzzling cases of recent on the coffee table or dining room table as bait. Aside from a few snide quips about Lassie becoming messier every day he spent with Shawn and that Lassie is lucky Shawn hasn’t gotten cheese dip all over the case files yet, he was eerily quiet on the solving police cases front. Chief Vick actually called Lassiter into her office a few days before. 

“Detective, is there any personal reason Mr. Spencer and Mr. Guster have been avoiding the station?” Chief had raised a poised eyebrow. 

Carlton was obviously flustered for a moment, opening and closing his mouth in astonishment due to the fact his seemingly no nonsense boss had just inquired about his intimate relationship with Shawn. “Chief, ahem, I don’t know how professional it is to be asking me about my relationship with..”

“Don’t patronize me, Carlton. I am inquiring as a friend more than in my capacity as a superior.”

Lassiter slumped into one of the chairs neatly arranged in front of the Chief’s desk and let a hand slide down his face as he adjusted his suit jacket. “I actually, though I am ashamed to admit, have no idea why Spencer won’t consult anymore. When I was in the hospital and then on leave I assumed he just didn’t want to work cases without me or was worried about leaving me all by ‘my lonesome’ as he put it. But after I came back, he just made excuses when I asked if he wanted to ride in with me. Him and Gus have couples’ tennis lessons to weed out a cheating spouse for some client, a pineapple appreciation seminar, vacuum cleaners rights rally, movies where dogs cover their eyes to not see humans kiss marathon, you get the gist? So I stopped asking. In conclusion, I have absolutely no idea why Shawn refuses to return to the SBPD.” 

Lassiter sat up in bed, the twitch of pain in his shoulder making him bite back a wince. He glanced at Shawn’s sleeping frame. Limbs flailed about, mouth open and drooling. Carlton frowned at the fact that he found the man endearing even as he was being slightly gross. Lassiter’s usual weekday morning routine continued as he showered, brushed his teeth dressed in a grey suit with a cream colored button up, his gun holstered, slacks straight and shoes nice and polished looking. He straightened his patterned tie in the mirror and went on his way to the kitchen. His arrival in the kitchen was met with Shawn and Gus at the kitchen table fighting over the last of an almost empty box of cocoa puffs. Lassie rolled his eyes, noting that Guster was still wearing pajamas and smirking slightly at the thought of him driving from the apartment he and Jules’ shared to Shawn and his place in his train pajamas. Shawn, on the other hand was sporting his yellow robe, embroidered with a tiny little pineapple over the breast, it was a Christmas gift the first Christmas they were official. Shawn was very appreciative of the robe and had taken to wear it when any opportunity to be comfortable and not dressed arose. 

While Lassiter waited for coffee to brew he took the time to move his arm, pressing a hand to his shoulder, working the muscle, wincing at the pain. Shawn, unsurprisingly took notice of this and shot up from the table. “Lassie! Please take some pain meds today. And don’t give me that look, you can’t continue to pretend you’re not in pain when you obviously are still experiencing joint combustion.”

“Joint discomfort, Spencer, and I am fine. I just need some coffee. Pain medication is for weak minded people who cannot simply just put mind over matter.” 

“Lassielove, how many times do I have to tell you that saying those inflammatory remarks around Gus, will entangle his lower regions through pure anger. The man is a part time pharmaceutical salesman after all and you are always bringing down his rep by tarnishing the very thing that keeps him off the streets aside from his sweet, sweet Magic Head…” Shawn continued his long winded rant as he raided the cabinet in the hall bathroom for Carlton’s prescriptions all the while Gus sat at the table and hummed softly to himself, no doubt enjoying his cocoa puffs. 

“Hey, Shawn. I-uh well, Jules and I, and the Chief and your father as well...have been worried about your lack of sticking your nose in our cases recently, not that I am at all bothered not having to sit through you and your ridiculous antics prancing around the station and crime scenes... and uh, I wonder if there is a reason to your sudden disinterest for police work…?” Lassiter had begun to make his coffee as he stumbled through calling out a coherent question. 

“Lassiefrass! Bingo! Found your meds!” Shawn bounded back into the kitchen, disregarding the question altogether. 

Lassiter saw an opportunity. “Spencer, I will only take the meds if you promise to tell me why you’ve been absent at the station and look queasy if I even mention you lending your fraudulent ‘visions’ on our cases.” 

Carlton knew Shawn’s love and need to keep him safe and healthy and feeling good outweighed his avoidance. 

Shawn heaved a sigh and set the orange pill bottle on the counter without much finesse and turned to lean heavily against it. 

“It isn’t… I’m not mad or whatever, I know that is probably what Jules thinks or something, and my dad probably thinks I am trying to ‘mature’ and I am ‘adulting’ for the first time, which ew, how could he? I will never mature. Never ever. And Vick must miss me something fierce to bring it up with you, and I’m sure Woody, the ole dog misses our lunches in the morgue...but Lassie, it’s just...you got shot, okay? And that's real world shit, y’know? Like I cried in the back of an ambulance because the guy I sleep with and get yelled at by on a daily basis is all pale and sickly looking. And the doctor told me that gunshots aren’t mostly psychological, and that our body isn’t equipped for this sort of thing and you were in surgery for probably the longest six hours of my life. And y’know my dads been shot and you and Jules and Gus over there, have given me a fair share of scares these past few years. Run-ins with the reaper. Dances with the devil. Lunch with Lucifer. But man, you were like right there on death’s doorstep. And we haven’t even gotten married Lass, or got a pet or had any kids, and we’ve never had a vacation that didn’t end in disaster, and I haven’t gotten to show you all the best John Hughes soundtracks and fuck man, we gotta spend a day doing every cool John Hughes movie thing in the book. We haven’t even kissed in the rain and confessed our undying love for each other while it's torrential or after prom or in a high school supply closet. And we would never get to fight again, man, and I live to fight with you. And then you were fine. It was more your shoulder and you needed some physical therapy and bam! The Lassinator was back in business. You took the shortest medical leave in the precincts’ history, and nabbed a crazy dude your first week back, in all your sunglasses, dry cleaned suit, awesome hair, sexy glory. And I tried, while you were on leave to waltz into the station and solve some cases, because of course the station needs me. I’m a brilliant psychic, y’know? And I saw your desk empty and it was like watching you get shot all over again, I couldn’t move until Buzz started asking me about your recovery. And then you went back and I wanted to go too, because I know Gus missed it, and the cases for the biz were a little bit meaningless, but when the Blueberry pulled up to the station, I just couldn’t do it. Made Gus take us for jerk chicken nachos, knocked back a couple 7/11 slushies and watched LA Confidential and shuddered everytime Kevin Spacey came on screen. And so yeah, Lassie, I haven’t been at the station in a minute, but I just don't know. I want to, I really do. I miss stealing your files and messing with you, and you yelling at me and getting me all hot and bothered on the job, and you sexily pulling your gun or slapping handcuffs on the perps...mmm...Lassie, it’s official, you are the single most attractive man in human history aside from Michael J. Fox and Val Kilmer.” Spencer’s rambling explanation was cut off by Gus retching. 

“I swear to God, Shawn, if you start trying to get into Lassie’s pants right in front of me, I will vomit and leave you here without a ride to the office. If you will excuse me, I am going to get one of my changes of clothes from the guest room.” Guster stood up from the table and marched past the couple and down the hallway.

“Shawn, I didn’t know you, uh, felt that way. I-you obviously don’t have to come back. I know when I got shot it was touch and go and probably a bit frightening but I’m completely fine. I am very adept at my job. And I know what being head detective entails, and I know that it probably isn’t fun dating a cop-especially me. And I’m sorry.” Carlton finally made eye contact with Shawn, he was purposeful not to mention Shawn’s appraisal of him because that train always led to Lassie being late to his very important job. Shawn caught Lassie’s hand and brought it to his lips.

“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t choose to be shot, and I got to tackle a psychopath for you, which is obviously a very romantic gesture no matter how much Gus refutes it. And I knew what I signed up for when I fell in love with you. My father wasn’t always the bald, dementia riddled, barbecue enthusiast he is now. He was once, like you, a man in blue. But also less badass and less cool hair.”

“Your dad does not have dementia, Spencer, and Henry was a great cop in his time. When I was a rookie, he was the gold standard.” 

“And now he is ailed by Alzheimers and betting on the worst jockeys.”

“Quit pinning quite depressing and debilitating diseases on your father to feed your egotism.”

“I know a way to feed my ego, Lass, and it has nothing at all to do with my dad, but it has everything to do with you.” Shawn stepped towards Lassie with a wicked smirk. 

“Oh yeah, Spencer? And what did you have in mind?” Carlton returned the smirk with a step forward of his own, slipping his fingers through the loops of Spencer’s robe. Screw being punctual.

“First, you need to take those meds. Don’t want your arm to go out in the middle of you pinning me to the nearest wall and-” Shawn was interrupted.

“Shawn! Come on son! I was just changing, not out of earshot.” Gus looked pissed and slightly disgusted to have walked in on the sexually charged atmosphere between his best friend and the head detective of the Santa Barbara Police Department. 

“Well, Gus, I hate to admit this but you have caught me trying to seduce my own boyfriend, but I am completely sorry and sincerely apologize for this inconvenience, it isn’t as if we are madly in love, in our own kitchen, and have just finished a rewarding and cardiac moment.” Shawn had begun getting a glass of water for Carlton as he rambled on.

“Shawn, you know it's cathartic, right? A cathartic moment?” Gus raised an eyebrow at his best friend. 

“Gus, my bald and black friend, what have I told you about making up words in front of Lassie? He might get the impression that I am the brains behind the whole Psych operation.” Shawn plunked the glass on the counter beside Carlton and shot him a wink as he unscrewed the pill bottle. 

Lassiter didn’t enjoy the bitter taste as he swallowed the pills and swished his mouth thoroughly trying to soothe the bile in the back of his throat. Gus had taken the opportunity to get the door when someone knocked, returning to the kitchen with Juliet, dressed in one of her usual fashionable pantsuits. She and Gus were talking animatedly about the new show that they had taken to watching and Lassiter was already annoyed with the conversation. Watching shows as a couple was impossible with Shawn, due to the fact that Shawn has a lot more free time than Lassie and will watch it without him anytime and lie to his face about it. But Lassie can always tell, the man has the best memory of anyone he has ever known so Shawn gets easily bored re-watching a show like Criminal Minds. Plus Lassie hates cop shows. Usually they end up watching a random handful of ‘old people TV’, infomercials, antique’s roadshows, and Saturday morning cartoons. Lassiter had never been one for mushy, over affectionate couple things, unlike Gus and Juliet, who spent 99.9% of their time acting like the perfect match. 

Lassiter hadn’t been fond of cliches even with his ex wife, though it was mutual, Victoria was just as distant and brooding as he had been, more so in the beginning. He chased after her approval and clung to her when she expressed her love for him. He wasn’t much better on his end, always wanting to solve her problems, and left no room for her to vent. He didn’t understand her want of other couples to be friends with. Her express desires to be sophisticated, to be respected by their friends and family. She wanted to one up her father’s expectations, chose a lanky rookie just finishing the academy and convinced him of his drive and ambition, that it was rightfully placed on his shoulders. Lassie had always been distant, intense, slightly robotic and antagonistic, but after little to no appreciation in the academy and his mother’s remarriage, he was left a branch cracked and at the edge of crumbling. But then there was Victoria and money and incentive and ballroom dance lessons, and confidence, and kisses that were chaste and Catholic and everything Carlton thought he needed. 

And then, there was the fighting. They fought plenty before they were married, both hot headed and stubborn, easily aggravated. But after the wedding, and a blissful honeymoon stage, it was so easy for Carlton to come home late and screaming matches to ensue. Carlton knew how it felt to strain your back sleeping on the couch, for your wife to shack up in a hotel and not take your calls until you apologize with flowers and jewelry and promises of being better. But he was never better, never enough to keep the marriage afloat. But that wasn’t just Carlton, it was a culmination of how maybe they were young and easily persuaded by the ideas of romance and faithful marriages and promotions, and maybe Victoria really enjoyed the idea of being a Chief’s wife someday. It had taken Lassie a long time to stop pretending his marriage could have survived if he had been a little stronger. A little more open and vulnerable. That maybe the marriage ended because they didn’t fit, Victoria never liked Old Sonora much, and he didn’t like red wine. 

When he and Shawn had gotten together after Shawn got shot, he had to remind himself that Shawn was wild and too open and easy going and immature and hated commitment and couldn’t take anything seriously and was a slight compulsive liar. Shawn was the opposite of anyone Lassiter had ever been with. While he sat with him in the hospital during his recovery, Carlton had to stop himself from demanding he take getting shot seriously, to demand maturity and reasonable conversation and sort out their feelings like adults, but of course, he didn’t. Because Shawn was Shawn. They didn’t do more than have dinner at Lassie’s occasionally or lunch when they could, a couple movies, and a few walks on the beach at night. They didn’t even kiss. It was mundane and domestic, and Lassie was content to continue bickering with Shawn until something changed. It was months of assessing the others safety, and soft smiles once in a while, and fighting. They really tore each other up.

It was nothing like the civilized and brutal fights he had shared with his ex wife. The fights were cruel and intense. Shawn almost got hurt trying to find that damned shark, never listened when Lassiter instructed him to stay away from a case, muddled up police work and disrespected Lassie almost more than ever. But Shawn got angry at Lassie right back, Lassie doesn’t feel he needs back up to a regular old B&E and almost got killed, he discharged his weapon far too much, snapped at Jules for just trying to help, had not seen classic John Hughes movies, and didn’t really believe Shawn wasn’t going to get bored. 

But then they kissed. It was after Shawn admitted the reason he never took Nadia’s bait and flirted back after he had spent so much time helping her was because he didn’t want anyone but Lassie. After their kiss, next adventure with Despereaux, Shawn promising and then failing, and finally telling Gus after almost dying at the hands of revenge killers at ScareFest, Jules divulging that Gus actually spilled the beans to her at their date night while Lassie and she drove to Dual Spires, and privately telling the Chief about their involvement once all parties returned to Santa Barbara. But really it was the motorcycle conversation. When Shawn basically professed his undying love and reasoning that loving Carlton has made him want a slightly more sensible life, including transportation.

“Lassie, are those pills making you trip, man? Because you’ve been staring at that sink for a few minutes now.” Shawn waved his hands in front of his boyfriend’s eyes. Carlton blinked and turned towards him. 

“You should probably get dressed, Spencer.” Lassie straightened and shot a look at Gus and Jules to make sure they were still engrossed in their conversation before he slid his hand around Shawn’s cheek and gave him a soft kiss. 

¨Rain check on working today, Booker? We could stay in and watch the Clint Eastwood canon and I could show you how strong your shoulder has gotten…?¨ Shawn leered. He knew Shawn wanted sex, but he also knew it was a small plea from Shawn, a demand he leave behind dangerous Head Detective policework. 

¨No can do, Spencer, O´Hara and I got a text this morning from the Chief about a new case.¨ Jules nodded in agreement as Shawn pouted. 

Lassie leaned in for one last peck before strutting out the door, Juliet trailing behind. Lassiter glanced back at her as he slipped his shades on. ¨So Spencer and I´s place is turning into a communal living space with you and Guster?¨ 

Juliet scoffed. ¨You knew from the moment Shawn got shot and you finally manned up to your feelings that Shawn and Gus are a package deal. You should be thankful he just spends mornings and evenings at your place and doesn't put a sleeping bag at the foot of your bed.¨

¨No way in hell would I allow Guster into our bedroom.¨ Carlton shuddered as he started the Crown Vic. ¨Are you not jealous of your boyfriend´s devotion to that manchild?¨

Juliet turned to glare at Lassie. ¨That manchild is ´the love of your life’ if I can recall correctly that night you drank a whole bottle of Jack Daniels by yourself down at Tom Blair's pub on your one year anniversary with said manchild...And no I think it is adorable the bond the two of them share, and plus it would be futile to try and come between them, they´ve been joined at the hip since the dawn of time or so Shawn says.¨

Carlton was red and flustered. ¨I will not be held responsible for what I say after I am fed copious amounts of alcohol by you and Spencer.¨

¨Y´know Lassie it is okay to sometimes profess your undying love for Shawn? He likes that kind of showy thing. Attention whore, remember?¨ Juliet said as Lassiter turned into the station. 

“Shawn knows perfectly well how I feel, and I do not need to make a spectacle to prove it. Spencer is the one with the melodrama in this relationship O´Hara, not me.¨ Lassiter stated in a clipped tone. Juliet giggled. ¨Something to contribute, O´Hara?¨

¨Nothing Lassie.¨ 

¨Hm, that's what I thought.¨

The rest of the drive was mostly silent as Lassiter navigated them to the police station. The morning was bustling with paperwork and filings and coffee and sighs and a very cut and dry case of robbery. 

Lassiter took a deep breath and got up for his second cup of joe when it hit him that Shawn had mentioned marriage for the first time that morning. As he sat back at his desk, Lassiter realized he had no idea how to digest this information. On one hand, Lassie was exuberant that Shawn had matured enough to be okay with that level of commitment but on the other hand Lassie realized he had not even thought of marriage except off-handedly over the past couple years of their courtship. He had resigned himself to die alone with only his revolver as his companion after the failure of his first marriage before he had admitted his feelings for the pain in the ass resident precinct psychic. After that, though, he resigned himself to laugh at the thought of Shawn settling down permanently, especially with someone like Carlton. Carlton had always been a nest kind of man, one for commitment and kept promises and stuffy catholic weddings, and then he did the whole shebang and suddenly it hadn’t been so profound and prideful when it fell apart into a million little passive aggressive pieces. He had always wanted kids, stable and respected job, a well equipped partner, white picket fence, a dog, yada, yada, yada. All the stuff his father had abandoned and his mother had flipped on its head. Lassie was still a one trick pony in that sense though, he still craved stability and the quiet contentment in belonging to someone else in the relationship sense. With Shawn, he had felt so lost at first, unsure footing and whatnot, so confused by the depth of their feelings, or how it would work, or even why they wanted it to in the first place. But Carlton had felt balanced for quite some time then. He had been enjoying the thrum of waking up everyday morning to the obnoxious and breathy snores of his bed partner. He had felt firm and stable, no more wayward thoughts and big revelations to be had. He knew Shawn inside and out. Probably better than Shawn knew himself, in complete honesty. He had studied and surveyed and investigated and catalogued every flaw and fickle of the man. He had spent years fighting him, and then fucking him, and then a little of both. But Shawn wanted to marry Carlton, apparently, and have kids. He wanted that bond forever with a stuffy, uptight, Mr. Bean lookalike head detective with mild anger issues and too much gun pariphanilia. 

Carlton was snapped out of his reverie by the vibrating trill of his cell phone. He pulled it quickly out of his pocket, schooled his thoughts and answered. “Head Detective Carlton Lassiter of the SBPD speaking.”

“Lassie-o-saurus! Did you change my ringtone again? It was work appropriate this time.” Shawn replied with petulant childish frustration in his voice.

“Shawn, the when he came into me part of the Erotic Delights of Lady C by Constance Chatterly is hardly work appropriate and you know that. Is everything alright? Why did you call?” Lassiter immediately snapped back into worry. 

“Lass! Can’t a guy call his man when said man is at work after leaving him high and dry earlier this morning?” 

“Not when his man is head detective has important police business to attend to and no time for meaningless phone conversations.” 

“Well actually, my fine fuzzy friend, I didn’t just call for the whole risque business, I also called because I think I might have a case for you and Jules.”


End file.
